


why does tony REALLY have the reactor back?

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Compliant, Crying, Depression, F/M, M/M, Other, Panic Attack, Panic Attacks, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, irondad and spideyson, mcu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: Set somewhere in between Civil War and Infinity War. The shrapnel in Tony’s chest is gone, and all that’s left of the arc reactor that was so crucial to his survival is a jagged, circular scar. Still, it’s getting harder and harder for him to feel safe.Peter Parker is caught blindsided when he finds Tony in the midst of an attack.





	why does tony REALLY have the reactor back?

**Author's Note:**

> YO i’m proud of myself for actually publishing something

Sometimes at night, Tony would run his fingers over his chest, feeling the jagged scars in the rough shape of a circle, right where his arc reactor had once been. Sometimes he would forget it was gone, even after all these months. 

He turned to his side, watching Pepper through the dark. God, she was so beautiful. 

Her eyelids fluttered with each breath, and Tony found himself smiling, despite it all. Love. He loved her so much, it radiated throughout his body, like there was nothing in the world but her heart and his. 

His heart. Unprotected, without a shield, without the _reactor_ to keep the shrapnel out, to keep him alive, to feel her love. He touched the scars again, instinctively. He could feel it beating.

He swallowed, sitting up. The reactor wasn’t there because _he didn’t need it._ He was safe, he had to convince himself. He’d had the surgery, so he was safe. 

So why did he still feel so scared?

—

“Kid? Kiddo? You got your stuff packed?” Tony’s voice echoed down the hall of May and Peter’s apartment, and Peter’s head shot up. He zipped up his suitcase and dragged it out of his room. 

“Yeah,” he said, clicking the button and attempting to pull the handle up. It was stuck. “Uh... um, hold on.” He tried again, frustrated. “Sorry, I think—“

“It’s fine,” Tony said, and Peter could hear amusement in his mentor’s voice. “I’ve got it.”

Tony continued as they made their way to the living room. “I’ve got some cool stuff waitin’ for ya over at the compound— hey, where’s your hot aunt anyway?”

“May?” Peter looked at Tony funny for a moment, then shrugged. “She’s working. Last minute call.” 

“Oh.” Tony frowned. “We better leave her a note, then.”

Tony scribbled something onto a pad of paper sitting on the counter, and then tore it off and stuck it onto the fridge with a loud slam. He smirked, picking up Peter’s luggage and turning the corner out their front door. Peter turned around, catching a glimpse of the sticky note in the kitchen. 

The only thing there was a sketch of the iron man mask.

—

Once they were in he car, and on the road, Tony took off his jacket. He left only a thin, gray t-shirt underneath, and Peter couldn’t help but stare at the space where the light should’ve been. 

“You know, I don’t know if I’m even gonna get used to it not being there,” Peter said, pointing at Tony’s chest. Tony looks down.

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed, voice quiet. He laughed. “Kind of ironic.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Tony repeated, fixing his eyes on the dashed white line on the road. “I don’t know. I guess I still kind of feel like I need it.”

“But you don’t, right? Because you had that surgery?”

“Yeah. I don’t need it.” Tony smiled, but it was bitter. Peter thought he looked kind of sad. 

He decided not to push it.

—

“What’s goin’ on, spider-kid?” Rhodes asked, grinning as Peter reached up for the high-five.

“Nothing,” he tells him, leaning his suitcase against the wall. “Mr. Stark wants to show me some new designs he has.”

“Oh, so you’re here to be his test rat,” Rhodes snorted. “Be careful. He’s a mad scientist.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter grinned, holding up his fingers. “I’m basically indestructible.”

Rhodes smiled, roughed up Peter’s hair, and headed towards the kitchen. 

Peter watched as the sergeant walked; his movements were still stiff, but the machinery that powered his legs was nothing short of incredible. 

—

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, once they were outside in the lawn. He had on a glove Tony gave him, and he examined it before Tony replied. 

“Yep?”

“Mr. Rhodes... his injury was bad, wasn’t it?” 

Tony paused. There was something in his eyes that Peter just couldn’t place.

“Yeah,” Tony murmured, pressing his lips together. “Why?”

“I—“ Peter faltered. He pretended to be focused on something on the glove. “How did you fix him?”

“We didn’t fix him,” Tony said. “He put in the work.”

“Yeah, but...”

“He’s never going to walk without that thing again,” Tony finished, and something in his voice sounded distant. “Yeah, I know.”

“That’s— that’s not what I—“ Peter swallowed, stuttering. He didn’t like talking to tony when he was Tony like this. Something didn’t feel right. “Never mind.”

“Okay.” There it was again... the detached voice. But then Tony cleared his throat. “Try out the shooters, will ya? I wanna see how well they work.”

—

It was late; Tony didn’t want to check the clock. He was down in the lab, researching a new form of material storage he liked to call nano-tech. The LED on the screen bled into the dark room, and his eyes were starting to burn. He instinctively touched his chest again, through the fabric, yet again alarmed, if only for a split second, that the hard metal of the reactor wasn’t there. 

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice came from the hallway, echoing. He dropped his head, frustrated. 

“I’ll be up soon, honey,” Tony called. “Go to bed.”

“Really?” She was standing in the doorway now. 

“Really what?”

“Do you promise you’ll be up soon?”

“ _Yes_ , Pepper. I promise.” His temper was shot. 

“Okay.” Her eyes were wide and honest, and he felt bad for lying. But he knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight, and besides, it’s better to use his insomnia to get something done.

She left, and made sure to shut the door behind her, and he felt something in his heart warm. 

Again there was the familiar jolt of fear as he realized the reactor wasn’t in its place, and then the fear faded. He bit his lip, tilting his head back, and shut his eyes. 

But behind his eyelids he saw Obadiah’s face, smiling, as he ripped he reactor from Tony’s chest. He expected to feel the pain, but it didn’t come, and his eyes shot open. 

He shut off his computer screen, and somehow found his way to the common room. What did he come up here for? He settled for a glass of water, but as he was filling it up, the fridge made a sound. Though it was quiet, Tony found the buzzing to be similar to an automatic rifle, and his heart skipped a beat for a moment. 

_What is_ wrong _with me?_

Because usually this sort of thing didn’t happen. Usually he can keep it all under wraps, under control. Usually he can play violent video games or hear loud sounds like any _normal person_ , but today it was like his nerves were shot.

_I’m not going to lose my mind,_ he told himself, in a voice harsher than any he’d dare to use aloud. 

But what if they’re wrong? What if the doctors are wrong and there’s still shrapnel there, ready to strike? And he can’t die like that— not by _metal_ in his chest. After all these years of fighting it, he can’t die like that.

His brain short circuited, however hard he tried to block it from happening. All he could see was the bomb, his _own_ bomb blowing up in front of him. He saw the glint of an automatic rifle, and a loaded 45 held to his head. 

He saw the vision of his friends, on the rock in space. He saw the glint of a titan’s dark, beady eyes. He saw the alien spaceship exploding from a nuclear bomb _he_ had been holding only moments before.

He saw everything he’d ever known to be a nightmare, all swarming behind his eyes, and it was just too much. He couldn’t think to do the breathing exercises, or the grounding techniques, or have time to talk himself through the sudden fear. Because it was just all too much, all at once.

He dropped the water in his hand, hardly registering the echo of the glass shattering at his feet. He gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. His chest felt locked, like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t exhale or inhale or _anything_. He was just frozen with fear.

He fell to the ground, hunched over himself, gagging and doing anything he could to suck in just a little bit of air. He held his hand up as searing pain pierced his skin; tiny shards of glass were embedded into his left palm, and it reminded him, in a twisted way, of the shrapnel that very well may still be embedded in his chest.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter’s voice cut through the static, and Tony’s head shot up. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, but something in him was furious. It had to be Peter, and it had to be now.

“Mr. Stark... you’re scaring me.”

_You’re scaring him,_ shouted the voice in Tony’s ears. It was his own voice.

I’m sorry, Tony wanted to say. He didn’t have the oxygen to do it.

“Holy shit, you— you’re gonna pass out. Mr. Stark, if you don’t breathe you—you’re gonna pass out.” Peter didn’t move from the doorway, though, frozen. He didn’t know what was happening.

But then he moved toward Tony, quickly and without hesitation. He was scared, alright, but he couldn’t just watch.

“What’s going on?” he asked, and forced himself to keep his voice slow.

Tony struggled to take in breath, but managed to choke something out. It didn’t make sense, and Peter could hardly hear him. 

“What?” he said, anxiously. “Mr. Stark, should I call 911?”

Finally Tony found the strength for two gulping gasps of air, pulling oxygen into his lungs. Everything came rushing back, and that gave him strength, and finally he could breathe again.

“Get Rhodey,” Tony choked, watching the blood on his hands pool in several places. Glass was still stuck there.

“But you... are you crying? What’s going on?” Peter’s voice sounded panicked.

“Rhodey,” he forced out, through shaking gasps. Thankfully, Peter nodded, and spun around to race down the hall.

After a few minutes the worst of the storm had already passed. Rhodey was there, crouching next to Tony and helping him up, guiding him to the sink.

“Jesus, Tony, what happened?” he murmured, running his hand under the warm water. Tony’s chest still fluttered, but it was mostly under control now.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, leaning his body weight on the edge of the sink. He could feel Peter’s nervous eyes burning into his back. He hated this. He turned around, shaky but with the same kind of confidence he usually holds. 

“Pete, look, you can go to bed now. If you’d like.” He wiped his face quickly. Tried tears still tracked over his cheeks— this must’ve been a bad one, because he usually doesn’t cry during these attacks.

Wide eyed, Peter nodded, and disappeared around the corner into the dark hallway. 

Tony glanced back up at Rhodey for a moment. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“God, I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, wincing as he pulled another piece of glass out. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Over there,” he pointed to the cabinet, and Rhodey reached up to open it. 

Once he was finished wrapping Tony’s hand, Rhodey sighed.

“I thought you had this figured out,” he said, staring at the bandage.

“I thought I did, too.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shut his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I...” Tony faltered, staring angrily ahead at the tile wall. “It’s just... a lot’s going on.”

“Is it because of that?” Rhodey pointed to Tony’s chest. 

“Maybe,” he replied honestly.

Rhodey places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, firm and comforting. “Just hold it together, alright? No repeats.”

Tony smirked, but it was sad and empty. 

“You sure you can clean this up on your own?” Rhodey motioned to the glass on the floor.

“Yeah. I got it.” Tony winced as he moved his fingers. “Thank you.”

Rhodey nodded. It was quick, and soldier-like, but it gave Tony hope nonetheless.

—

Tony stood gingerly outside of Peter’s room. The lights were off, but Tony had a feeling he wasn’t asleep. 

“Pete? You awake?” he called, softly. 

“Yeah,” came the mumble, and Tony pushed open the door. Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed, back towards him, and facing the window. From this side of the building, the glow of the city over the forests and suburbs was visible.

“Look, I... I’m sorry you had to see that.” He didn’t move from the doorway, and Peter didn’t turn around.

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay, I—“

“Mr. Stark, I thought you were dying!” Peter blurted, finally twisting to face him. “I heard the glass shatter, so I went downstairs, and...”

“Hey! Hey, I’m okay. Nothing happened to me.”

“What do you _mean_ nothing happened to you?!” Peter looked pained, and it broke Tony’s heart.

“Look at me.” Tony held out his arms. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“Then what _was_ that?”

Tony hesitated, though. _He_ didn’t even know what was happening, not really. Yes, he was a scientist, and he’d tried to learn the chemistry behind it, and the reasons for those attacks, but it was all too foggy. None of it mate a lot of sense, and he tried to stay away from things that don’t make sense.

“A heart attack?” Peter mumbled, looking scared. “Because that’s what I thought it was.”

“Definitely not,” Tony assured swiftly. 

“But— then what was it? Asthma? You don’t have asthma.”

“No, I don’t.” Tony but his lip. His voice was small, and quiet, and Peter realized how different this real voice was from the loud one he usually used. “Do you... do you know what Post Traumatic Stress is?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that what soldiers get?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not a soldier.”

“Right. I’m an avenger,” Tony smirked, shooting a sideways glance at Peter. “Anyways, do you know what... do you know what PTSD does?”

Peter was quiet for a moment. “I think so.” He picked at his fingernail. “Don’t you, um, get all distant and angry? Right? Because I saw that in a movie, you know, the one about the sniper and stuff... but you—you’re not like that. You’re not weird and distant. Not usually.”

Peter talks fast when he’s nervous, Tony realized. 

“I guess it’s different for everyone,” Tony murmured. 

Peter almost didn’t want to ask this. “What... what’s it like for you?”

Tony hesitated.

“That. What you just had to see. Which— which, you shouldn’t have. But I’m not saying it’s your fault, because it’s not—“ He broke off, taking a breath. “They call it a panic attack. Which says it all on the tip.”

Peter was silent, staring down at his hands. “And that’s why you couldn’t breathe?”

“I guess.” Tony shifted. “I— Pete, I just want you to know— that doesn’t happen a lot. Not anymore.”

“What, so I’m supposed to just... not be worried about you? Just like that?”

“I mean...” Tony murmured, “Yeah. Kinda.”

“But if... if it happens again, how am I supposed to help?”

“You help by getting somebody who _can_ help,” he said firmly. 

“But— But, _I_ can help!”

“Kid, there are only three people that know how to deal with me,” he told him. “Do you want to know something they all have in common?”

“What,” Peter muttered. It was more of a statement than a question.

“They’ve known me for years and years.”

“So what?”

“So what? So, _you_ can relax and let the adults handle the loose bolts.”

“You’re not just a loose bolt, you know. Besides, I can help. Don’t you trust me?“

“Of course I trust you. But you’re sixteen, kid. It’s not your responsibility. Actually, you’re _my_ responsibility, so all this would be a bit of an oxymoron if I ever needed to depend on you.” Tony frowned. “Get it?”

“Well, yeah, but...” Peter laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t you think it would be more like a symbiotic relationship?” 

“What?”

“You know, like the fish that eat off of the shark’s body so it stays clean?” Tony squinted, and Peter backtracked, sitting up on his elbows. “Okay, that was a weird example but you know what I mean.”

Tony laughed, a sharp exhale. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Well?”

Tony stared out the window in from of him, out at the dark forest and then the foggy, bright nighttime skyline where the city is. He thought about the bomb again, the one that caused this mess in the first place, and he reached for his reactor.

The soft flesh yet again reminded him that it wasn’t there anymore. 

“Need to book an appointment tomorrow,” he muttered, fingers lingering over the scar he can feel through the t shirt. 

“Why?”

Tony swallowed. “I’m scared. That’s why. Am I allowed to say that to you?”

“Yeah. It’s part of the symbiotic relationship deal.”

“I don’t remember signing up for that,” Tony grumbled.

“Well, you did.“ Peter looked up, eyes wide. “Why are you scared? Is it because of that?” He pointed to Tony’s chest.

Tony nodded, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You know, I think I’m gonna put it back.”

“What?!”

“I know, I know.”

“No, I mean... you think there’s still stuff in there?”

“I don’t know what I think.”

“Oh.” Peter’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Tony said, pausing. “I mean that— I guess that I’ve spent so long being so close to death that I’m still kind of afraid of it? Even now, after I know I’m safe.” Tony bit his lip. “I’m sure that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it does,” Peter told him. “It does make sense.”

Tony smiled, sad, and for some reason he realized he had a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow around it.

“When?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, and Peter sat up again. “I’m working on it.”

“You’ll be, like, the original Iron Man.”

“I already am the original Iron Man.”

“I know, but...” Peter paused to yawn. “It’s gonna be the circle and everything.”

“One— didn’t say it was going to be a circle. Two— I’m gonna let you get some sleep.” Tony stood up, biting his lip. “You must be exhausted.”

Peter nodded, shifting around in his bed as Tony fluffed the pillow. 

“Kid?” Tony’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t want to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said. “Are you okay now?”

Tony smiled, a half-smile. “Think so.”

“Good.” Peter yawned again. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Night, Pete,” he said softly. 

Tony shut the door quietly, and stood in the hallways outside of the room for a while. It was dark, but it was quiet, too.

Everything was quiet outside of the city, and it was something Tony wasn’t used to. He was born and raised in the city that never sleeps.

Pepper was there, standing in the hallways that leads to their room, across the common room. The gentle light of the lamps glowed, dull and orange. 

She looked so beautiful, Tony thought, numb. He felt like he was crashing.

He fell into her arms, holding tight, hearing her heartbeat and wanting to crawl into the sound and live there forever. Like she was the only thing to exist.

“I’m putting the reactor back in,” he whispered. 

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just do what makes you feel okay,” she told him.

“I don’t know if it will.”

“Hm?”

“I’m just scared, Pep. I’m still scared it’s gonna kill me.” He paused. “Am I crazy?”

“Yeah. Little bit.” 

He smirked against her shoulder. “I know.”

“Come to bed,” she murmured, stepping back. He pressed his face closer to her, afraid of the cold. Because she was so, so warm.

“Okay,” he whispered. He was surprised when all he felt was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING!!! COMMENT IF U LIKED!


End file.
